THERE'LL be no sorrow in that land,
No sad good-by nor parting hand,
No weary watchings day and night,
No lonely gropings for the light.
No prison-house of wo and gloom,
No journey to the silent tomb
Where mourners weep and sigh in vain
For those who ne'er will come again.
O Death, thy course is almost run,
Life's battle fought, the victory won;
Thy silent sleepers soon shall hear
The voice of their Deliverer.
MRS. M. SOLLARS.